


Two Sides of the Same Coin

by GhostofBambi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Marauders' Era, Valentine's Day, Valentine's Day Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 08:24:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13677954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostofBambi/pseuds/GhostofBambi
Summary: There are those who claim that Lily Evans couldn't possibly love James Potter as much as he loves her - including, on occasion, James Potter himself - but they couldn't be more wrong if they claimed that the moon was made of cheese.





	1. Heads

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alrightsnaps](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alrightsnaps/gifts).



> This is a two-parter birthday present for the beautiful alrightsnaps, who deserves everything. Dearest L, I know you've recently become a fan of AUs, but as you're a sucker for classic, canon Jily, have some fluffy fanfic as a gift.

**Part 1: Heads**

_Tuesday, February 14th, 1978_

_Or, as it's otherwise known, Valentine's Day_

_The Great Hall, Hogwarts_

_Breakfast_

Lily had never thought that she could become one of  _those_  girls.

Those girls were twittering girls, Valentine's Day girls, girls who floated giddily through a rose-blossom dreamland of hearts and chocolates in the delicate hour between sleep and waking. Those girls were the worst, she had stridently believed. Vacuous, vapid, and far too concerned with the anachronistic notion of  _twu lurve_ for her tastes, as if true love was an attainable goal for a teenage girl trapped in a boarding school like one of so many sardines. Such a state of mind could offer broken hearts and regrettable sexual encounters, at best, and Lily was too cool for that shit. Too smart. Too smug, now that she looks back on the person she was a year or two ago. It's a wonder her friends ever put up with her condescension. Somebody should have slapped her.

She doesn't like admitting that she's wrong, but even she's got to give way on this one. She  _is_  one of those girls now. Not vapid, perhaps, but one of those girls. Smitten. Silly. Lovesick.  _Happy._

That last one is a big deal, because right outside the walls of the castle she calls home, school, and everything else in between, war is brewing - a great big terrible war, a charcoal cloud which casts it shadow over every living soul - and her life, more so, even, than the lives of some of her classmates, must eventually find itself in considerable danger, and yet...

Here she is. Happy. Despite it all.

She's later for breakfast than what's usual, but that's no cause for worry. She needed the time to put extra special pains into her appearance today, a dollop more than the usual effort of brushing her hair and applying a touch of mascara to darken her pitifully light lashes, one of the hallmarks of being a redhead. There's not much room for experimentation when one must don black robes for class, but there'll be no stopping her later. She's got something pretty that her mother bought at her request, in red, for the occasion, and because it pops against her pale skin, and because it's James's favourite colour.

Lily has dutifully recorded a list of James Potter's favourites over the past couple of years, starting when they were friends, expanding when they became more than that. He loves the colour red, and cats – specifically _his_ cat – and the Caerphilly Catapults, and McGonagall is his favourite teacher, and he has a surprising knowledge of James Bond movies considering his blood status and general ignorance of Muggle culture. He insists it's because his mother is obsessed, though Lily thinks it can't hurt that he shares a first name with the protagonist, and a middle name with Goldfinger's henchman, though she swore she'd take that secret to the grave.

He also loves bacon sandwiches, such as the one he's eating when she darts up behind him – Mary follows behind her at a sedate, more respectable pace – and throws her arms around his neck, her Valentine's-inspired excitement outweighing her fear of accidentally choking him.

"Guess who?" she says, and plants a multitude of pink lipstick kisses on his cheek, because she's one of  _those_  girls.

"Whoever it is," says James, once he's swallowed the mouthful he was chewing. "I feel honour bound to tell you that I'm taken."

She laughs softly, and lands one more kiss on his ear, her upper lip bumping against the temple of his glasses. "Hello, you."

"Hello to you, too."

"I'm trying to eat, Evans," says Sirius Black, from the other side of the table, where he has speared a sausage on the end of his knife because using a fork isn't tortured enough, probably. He is the dark, shadowy moon to James's perpetual sunshine, and he puts considerable effort into maintaining that aesthetic.

 _"I'm trying to eat, Evans,"_ Lily mimics.

"Well, I am!"

She rolls her eyes and slides onto the bench, next to her boyfriend of precisely one hundred and fifty-one magical days, which is saying something, when one attends a school of witchcraft and wizardry. One tends to find magic everywhere. "I'm not bloody stopping you."

"What have I said about molesting him in public?"

"Something she should never listen to," says James, and turns his head to take a proper look at her. _"Wow."_

"Wow?"

"You look beautiful."

She smiles, lifts her hand and wipes a fleck of ketchup away from his chin with her thumb. "You look messy."

"Handsomely messy?"

"Ketchup-mouth messy."

"I'll kiss you with this mouth in a minute if you're not careful."

"Cool," she says, and picks up a napkin from the empty golden plate in front of her. She holds it out for him to take. "But wipe it first."

She likes that he says it as if it's a threat, as if she wouldn't brave the storm of a hundred sticky ketchup kisses just for a taste of him.

He's delicious, her boyfriend, tall, dark and handsome beneath a shambolic whirl of jet black hair that he definitely ruffles on purpose just to show off, which definitely makes her heart skip a couple of beats. James has been the star attraction of her budding sexual awakening for far longer than he even knows, a fantasy feature from ages past, when things were weird between them because of That Person they don't talk about now.

She used to dream, rather coldly, of a hot, charged-up, firing-on-all-cylinders but otherwise empty snogging session that would be just that and nothing more - and they even had one, on the second-last day of their fifth year, an angry, post-exam explosion that she immediately pretended to regret - but her dreams hold a softer, more romantic tone now.

Of course, they still have hot, charged-up, firing-on-all-cylinders snogging sessions - there'd be no point to the hangings on his four poster otherwise - but they also have long talks, and meandering walks, and they've met each other's families and it's all so utterly brilliant. They haven't gotten as far as the L word, the big word, but she thinks, she hopes, maybe, that it might be coming for them soon.

Sirius makes a noise of disgust low in his throat, revolted as he always is by any kind of happiness that seems too ostentatious, though Remus and Peter aren't bothered, the latter shuffling over to make room for Mary. James, meanwhile, wipes his mouth, discards the napkin, sucks some ketchup off his finger and hoists his schoolbag onto the table, narrowly avoiding a pumpkin juice spill.

"Guess what?" he says, eyes alight with what looks like mischief.

"What?"

"It's Valentine's Day."

"I know," Lily tells him, playing it cool, because she's one of _those_ girls, but he doesn't have to know that. "We've got Slughorn's stupid party later, or had you forgotten?"

"Nope, I wrote a reminder in my diary, look," he says, and pulls up his left sleeve to show her his forearm, which is where he makes a lot of his 'reminders.' He's been pulled up for cheating in tests twice, only to be released when it was found that the notes on his arm were nothing more than scribbled nonsense.

"That's a drawing of a pineapple."

"Exactly."

"If it makes sense to you, I suppose," she agrees, and reaches for a slice of toast. "It starts at 8, okay? What time do you finish Quidditch practice?"

"An hour before that, it's fine."

"Dumbledore's extended curfew until 11, and Slughorn will want us to—"

"I'll be right on time, I promise. It takes me five minutes to shower and I won't let practice run late this time."

"What if Mary breaks your nose again?"

"Oi!" cries Mary, who has wedged herself between Sirius and Peter, and angrily brandishes her spoon. "Less of that shit, thanks!"

"Stop smashing Bludgers at my boyfriend's face and I'll give you less of that shit."

"He _tells_ me to do it, you know," Mary retorts. "He said, _specifically_ , that he's the best at dodging them and that nobody else will learn until they follow his example."

"You are grossly misrepresenting me, and I consider it slander," says James.

"I am _not—"_

"I'm the best at _everything_ , not dodging Bludgers specifically, though my evasion tactics are stellar—"

"Except when they break your nose," Remus puts in.

"That was an isolated tragedy."

"It's happened twice," Mary reminds him.

"Darling," says Lily sweetly. "Please refrain from injuring my date during practice. I can't handle another Slug Club party by myself."

Mary mumbles something under her breath and stuffs a spoonful of porridge into her mouth, possibly to avoid unleashing a diatribe at her best friend's man.

"And as for _you,"_ Lily continues, turning to James, who is rooting around in his bag. "For the sake of helping me avoid yet _another_ introduction to a reserve-team Quidditch player who Slughorn forgets I know because he was only a year ahead of us—"

"He better not _dare."_

"—could you please give your Beaters another target to fire at?"

"Anything for my Valentine," he agrees, to groans from several of their mates, and from his bag he draws a box wrapped in sparkly red paper, and Lily feels a thrill of shameful excitement. "Can I give you your present now?"

She was going to reach for the jam, but screw the jam. Jam is commonplace. "A present for me? Really?"

"No, it's a Valentine's Day gift for Slughorn. I was hoping you'd give it to him later, while Pomfrey's patching my nose up."

"But you just got me all that stuff for my birthday—"

"So?"

"And Christmas."

"I know," he agrees, and hands the box to her. "After this I'm going to have to start making up reasons to give you things."

Lily shouldn't be like this - in fact, she remembers warning her very own friends to be less open about their feelings around boys, those awful, horrid creatures who think only of themselves and will trample on hearts like crisp autumn leaves - but that's another wrong she'll have to own to. She takes her gift with brazen enthusiasm.

"You really shouldn't have," she tells him, delicately tearing the paper at one corner while his arm settles around her shoulders.

"Women always say 'you shouldn't have,' when they get a present," says Sirius loudly. "When what they mean is 'you're lucky you did, you stupid fuck.'"

"Based on what evidence?" says Mary tartly. "Since when have _you_ ever gotten a girl a present?"

"I gave you a stick of Drooble's, once."

"That's a favour, not a present."

"I'll be beholden to no woman's demands."

"How about I break _his_  nose, Potter?"

Lily effectively ends their conversation with a squeal, having unwrapped her present and pried the box open to find the sweetest handmade card - doodling is one of his many talents - a smaller box of Honeydukes finest luxury chocolates, and the smallest box of all, in which she finds a bracelet that must be imbibed with some sort of magic, for it glimmers like it's reflecting starlight.

"I had it made special, Mum helped me sort it and it's got some charms already but you can add more later," says James in her ear, very quickly, as if he's afraid that she'll hate her gift if he doesn't perform a point-for-point analysis. She holds it at eye level, danging from three fingers, and he points to one of the gently swaying charms, a tiny silver tankard with a ruby sheen. "That one is because of our first date."

"At The Three Broomsticks?"

"Exactly."

"What's the fork for?"

"The night you met my mum," he supplies.

"So, does the dice symbolise the day you met _my_ parents?"

"Yup, and the quill is for—"

"Scrivenshaft's," says Lily, smiling softly. "I remember."

In retrospect, a stationery shop was not the most memorable place for two people to share their first kiss - not, in all honestly, that it  _was_ their first, because the hormone-fuelled hour she spent backed into the wall of a disused classroom, an hour of lost control which resulted in her first love bite and a damp patch on his trousers, will always be the thing that happened in fifth year that they're taking to their graves - but as first dates went, it had been a dream, and he'd been so excited about the kitten-embossed parchment that she just couldn't help herself. No human boy had any right to be that appealing.

Really, Lily wouldn't change a thing,  _especially_ not the fifth-year snogging, and she still smiles whenever she uses the quill she bought in September.

"It's all of our firsts," he whispers. This isn't meant for anyone else to hear. "So, you know—"

"It's beautiful," she says firmly. "I love it."

He sighs in relief. "Do you?"

She nods, and she isn't welling up but it's taking a lot of effort. "But we'll have to add a new charm in the morning."

"Why?"

She turns her head a fraction and gives him a secretive smile. "Another first."

"What, like our first Valentine's Day? Our first Slug Club party, or—" She shakes her head, very slowly, and James's eyes widen as comprehension dawns. _"Oh."_

"Oh, indeed."

He smiles at her as if she's just announced that he's the new star Chaser for the Catapults. "Is this for real?"

"Completely real."

"And you're sure?"

"I can't wait any longer," she confesses. One hundred and fifty-one magical days is more than enough to be getting on with, and she's perfectly ready - more than ready - to give him something she's never given to anyone else. "I thought we could sneak back to your dorm early, during the party?"

He answers with a harsh expulsion of breath and something akin to wonder in his eyes.

"I mean," she continues. "I  _did_ also buy you something, if you'd prefer—"

"No!" he insists, and bounces up and down on his bottom. "No prefer. You're bloody brilliant, you are. Brilliant."

He kisses her then, soft and sweet, the kind of kiss one has to close their eyes and settle in for, though McGonagall has already told them off four times for snogging in the Great Hall, once with an empty threat to revoke their respective Headships. It's Valentine's Day, though, and they're certainly not the only cosy couple in the room, so Lily's hoping that she cuts them a little slack.

Sirius, however, does not, and after a few minutes of uninterrupted happiness, he throws a wet teabag in their direction and orders them to desist immediately.

"Bloody hell, Sirius!" cries James, pulling away from her lips. He picks up the teabag, which has landed squarely in his lap, and drops it on his plate. "What was that for?!"

"You told me to drag you away from her, remember?" says Sirius coldly. "The owlery?"

"Oh yeah," says James, face falling. "Shit."

"What is it?"

"I forgot to send my mum a Valentine's Day owl, and she'll literally murder me if I don't."

Lily raises an eyebrow at him.

"Or send me a Howler, at the very least," he says, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear for her. "Do you mind if I go?"

"Of course I don't, say hi to her from me."

"Don't worry, I'd planned on it."

"Anyway, it's better that you leave, I need to actually eat something for breakfast that isn't—"

"James's face?" says Sirius, who has risen to his feet and shouldered his schoolbag.

"Excuse me?"

"Well, you'd practically gnawed it off, I was getting worried."

"I wish pestilence on you," she smoothly retorts, which earns her a thumbs up from Sirius. "In fact, try throwing another teabag at me and I'll make it happen."

"Bloody brilliant, you are," says James again, and drops another kiss on her willing lips before he stands up and steps over the bench. "Enjoy every bite of your breakfast."

"I'll try my best not to miss you," she promises.

"See you in Potions?"

"I'll save you a seat."

"Cool," he says, and picks up his bag. "Love you."

Then he freezes.

Everyone freezes. Even Peter, who was chewing loudly on a mouthful of fried tomato, freezes mid-chew. Some of the juice leaks out of his open mouth.

And Lily, who feels like something hot is squeezing her chest, turns in her seat and blinks up at James.

"What?" she says.

"What?" James repeats, and laughs, weirdly. He looks utterly horrified. "No, I don't!"

The hot something that has settled on her chest turns cold. "You don't?"

"Well..." says James, his eyes darting around the room. "I mean, I don't - what?"

"Let's go to the owlery, mate," says Remus quickly, and climbs off the bench. He puts a placating hand on James's shoulder. "Let Lily have her breakfast. Now's not the time."

"Yeah, got to get that message to your mum," Sirius agrees, and claps Mary on the back for no particular reason. "See you, Macdonald."

"Ouch?" says Mary.

"I think James has malfunctioned," Remus explains, and gives James a gentle push in the direction of the entrance hall. "It doesn't happen often, but it's nothing to worry about. We'll fix him."

"You too, Pete," says Sirius, and tugs at Peter's ear. He yelps, and looks pained by the prospect of abandoning his meal, but his other choice is to sit with Mary and Lily, and Lily has it on good authority that he's afraid to be around girls by himself, so he gets up and follows Sirius. Remus, meanwhile, has already shepherded James halfway to the door.

"What the fuck just happened?" says Mary urgently.

"I don't know."

"Did aliens just invade the school?"

"I don't know."

"Jesus, Lily," she breathes, and reaches across the table. "Are you alright?"

Lily doesn't have a clue what to feel, and only knows that now, the last thing on earth she wants is to eat some bloody breakfast.

The bracelet is still clutched in her hand.


	2. Tails

**Part 2: Tails**

_Tuesday, February 14th, 1978_

_Still, and quite persistently, Valentine's Day_

_Horace Slughorn's office, Hogwarts_

_Slug Club Party_

"You're only going to make it worse for yourself if you stay out here," says Remus, from the floor, where he has literally given up and sunk to his bottom like a broken raft. "Just go inside."

"I can't go inside."

"Eventually, someone is going to walk out and see us."

"So I'll say you felt sick suddenly," James retorts, and pulls his watch, which was proudly bestowed upon him by his mother when he came of age, out of his pocket. Slughorn's party started thirty minutes ago. If Lily didn't already want to kill him and then dump him, this will convince her to do it. "No offence, Moon, but given your track record, nobody's going to think I'm lying."

"Not that I don't appreciate a bit of gallows humour—"

"You're welcome."

"—but you're literally standing your girlfriend up on Valentine's Day, all because you're intent on being dramatic."

It is possible that James has a taste for drama that has clouded his view of the situation, but Remus does not understand, nor do his other friends, who upped and abandoned him after he decided to fake an illness and skive off classes, all the better to avoid the repercussions of the stupid thing he said at breakfast. None of his mates, not even Peter, who once spent a week stalking Mary Macdonald - without her knowledge, because he was a pretty inept stalker - until Sirius thumped him in the balls and told him to stop being a creep, have ever been in love.

Loving Lily Evans, which is a full-time job, has taken James through an assault course of emotions over the years. First, there was misery, because she didn't reciprocate his feelings, even treating him with some well-deserved contempt on occasion. Then confusion, after an apology-turned-argument-turned-kiss that took him further than he'd ever been with a girl, then euphoria, over a year later, when he finally took his shot and came up swinging. Since then, since the moment Lily stood on her toes and kissed him in Scrivenshaft's, with a quill clutched in her fingers and a spot of ink on her nose, he's been terrified, certain that he would inevitably fuck it all up.

James has been waiting to fuck it all up with Lily Evans for one hundred and fifty-one days, pure and golden as they've been, because he knows their time is numbered. It's a miracle that he kept her fooled for this long.

He walks to the door of Slughorn's office, turns, and darts away again, grimacing slightly as pain smarts in the back of his thigh. He had tried to make Quidditch practice run late - an abysmal practice, during which he accidentally committed several fouls - but Macdonald, sensing his cowardice, smacked him with her bat, having promised Lily to leave his nose intact. As team captain, he really could have cautioned her for that, but as he'd spent the entire day avoiding her best friend, he didn't have a leg to stand on. Quite literally. Mary is an ace with a Beater's bat in her hand and she knows all the major pressure points, so he was laid out on the ground for at least three minutes. He should congratulate her later, for such an excellent hit.

After practice ended, he took a long shower and hid out in the dorm, but then Remus turned up and gently threatened him until he got dressed and accompanied him to Slughorn's office, outside which they have been waiting, one annoyed, the other anxious, for at least ten minutes.

"Could  _you_  go in?" he suggests, looking at Remus in the same way he looks at his cat when he wants him to go to the kitchens and fetch him a snack. It rarely works on Algernon, and when it does, he'll bring food to anyone but James, though Remus is a far kinder soul. "Just check on her, have a little chat, and see how murderous she's feeling? If I'm about to get dumped, I'd like to know in advance."

"She's not going to dump you for this."

"Can you get a second opinion on that? Hers, preferably?"

Remus raises his eyebrows at him. "Haven't I done enough for you today?"

"One more favour?"

"You're a bloody Gryffindor, James," his friend reminds him. "You risk your life at _least_ once a month, but you're too scared to talk to your own girlfriend about your feelings?"

"On our next Hogsmeade trip," he says, ignoring this very accurate slight on his inner lion, and referring, not to the school-mandated trips, but to the trips that he, Remus, Sirius and Peter take at night, usually about a week after one of Remus's transformations. "I will buy you an entire bottle of Firewhiskey, all to yourself."

"Ogden's Old?"

"The oldest bottle they've got."

"Fine, then," Remus agrees, with the air of a man who has accepted his fate. He sticks a hand out. "Help me up, my leg's fallen asleep."

James does as he asks, hauling him to his feet, whereupon Remus dusts himself off and pokes his chest with a stern finger.

"I'm only doing this for the firewhiskey."

"Understood."

"And because Lily deserves better than this."

"Agreed, but thanks for rubbing salt in the wound."

Remus sighs, opens the door – raucous laughter and cheerful music escape from within – and disappears inside, leaving James alone in the corridor, with nothing to do with his time but recap the series of mistakes that brought him here, like avoiding his beloved, then avoiding her some more, but mostly, declaring his love for her in the most unsuitable way, and in the worst possible place, and at the _worst_ possible time, only to immediately recant his words.

The thing is, he _does_ love her.

How could he not love Lily Evans, when she is so marvellous, and so achingly beautiful, treading through life with such kindness and compassion, yet with such strength? She's so smart, and brilliantly funny in that dry, laconic way of hers, and her eyes are so green, and she likes him, for some reason, and he's mystified by it all.

Sometimes, he thinks he loves her more than anyone else he knows, which feels intensely disloyal, especially to Sirius, and to his warm, wonderful parents, but he's been drowning in Lily Evans for years. He's entranced by her. Consumed, every waking minute of his short, yet eventful life. He thought he was hopeless before he won her over, particularly during that lost, turbulent year between their first kiss and their second, but now that he has her - by the skin of his teeth, it seems - it's far more terrifying, because losing her would be so much worse than never having her at all.

But he hadn't planned on telling her.

At least, he hadn't planned on telling her so soon, when she would be certain to rebuff him with an awkward, shifty-eyed 'thank you' and a pat on the arm. Obviously, he was going to have to tell her eventually, but he'd been thinking in the long-term. He'd had a dream once that he told her after he accidentally got her pregnant, and she decided to stick with him for the sake of the baby, and that seemed like some sort of plan. Probably not all that honourable, but it's fine now. There's not a chance of having sex with her, ever, not after what he's put her through today.

He can't  _believe_ she offered, just this morning, to give him everything, and he's gone and cocked it up.

He's still mulling on this when Remus pokes his head out the door, looking panicked, and urges him forward with one hand.

"Mate, you've got to get in here," he says quickly. "Snape's got her cornered."

"What?!"

"He's apologising to her, she's mentioned something about making things right—"

"That sneaky git!" James spits, and barrels past his friend, which results in quite a dramatic entrance, him bursting majestically into a room full of people - he is immensely handsome, after all - only to find fifty pairs of eyes on him.

Right in the middle of it all is Lily, standing in a little circle with Slughorn, Mary, Sirius, and some good-looking bloke James has never met, cold green eyes turned on him with all the rest, her beautiful lips pursed in an adorable, yet disapproving pout.

Snape is nowhere to be seen.

James has been had.

Remus Lupin has made a fool out of him.

What was he supposed to do, anyway? Punch Snape in the face? He's tried to apologise to Lily at least ten times since Christmas alone, and she's rebuffed him on every occasion, without fail. She holds James to a higher standard than Snivelly, and she wouldn't be pleased if he disrupted a social gathering just to start a fight with her former best friend, even if he is a filthy Death Eater wannabe. The most he could have done was flit to her side and glare menacingly.

She's wearing a red dress he's never seen before, and she's stunning, as per usual. Slughorn's good-looking mate is practically salivating at her feet, so at least there's one punchable face available, should Lily dump him and he needs to relieve his feelings.

"Found him!" says Remus, who has entered the room behind him, that sly, ultimately excellent bastard.

"Ah, Potter!" cries Slughorn genially, and waves him over. James finds himself being steered towards the group by Remus, and brought to a stop next to Lily, who blinks at him impassively. Merlin only knows of the wrath that seethes behind her spectacular bosom. "All cleared up, are you?"

"What?"

"I told Professor Slughorn about your funny rash," says Lily sweetly. "We've all been ever so worried."

"I haven't," says Sirius, smirking.

James doesn't yet have the strength, or the intel, to go toe-to-toe with Lily yet, so he rounds on Sirius instead. "What are you even doing here?"

He inclines his head towards Mary. "Macdonald needed a date, so I volunteered my services."

"I did  _not_  need a date!"

"You begged me to come—"

"You  _literally_  accosted me outside the girls' toilet—"

"How else was I meant to catch the drama?"

"What drama?" says Slughorn's mate, who really needs to back off and stop staring at Lily like he's in Azkaban, awaiting a kiss from a Dementor, and she's his last meal.

"There's no drama, Sirius is mentally subnormal," says Lily. "Anyway, getting back to the embarrassing rash—"

Sirius starts to laugh, and Mary elbows him, but she's fighting back a smile herself. If they start snogging, when he is so perilously close to being dumped by the love of his life, James will quite literally explode, and they'll be cleaning his entrails off their putrid, guilty bodies for weeks on end.

"It sounded quite painful when Lily described it," says Slughorn, and looks at James rather pityingly. "Did Pomfrey manage to help?"

"Er, yeah," James lies. "I'm right as rain."

If this is his punishment, he needs to take it like a man. And a Gryffindor. He is both a man and a Gryffindor. He is  _not_  afraid of his girlfriend. Not much, anyway. He's afraid of being dumped, which is why he's spent most of the day in hiding. She can't break up with someone she can't find.

"Potter here is Lily's paramour," Slughorn tells his friend, chest puffed out, walrus moustache twitching.

A small victory at last, James thinks, as the friend says, "Ah," and looks disappointed. Take that, you good-looking prick.

"It keeps one young, you know," says Slughorn. "To see love blossom in my very classroom."

"Actually," says Lily. "It blossomed in an  _empty_  classroom, nearly two years ago, or would have, only James got a bit excited and—"

"Hah!" he nervously barks. 

"What was that?" says Sirius. "He got excited?"

Sirius's eyes are gleaming with the promise of a thousand opportunities, and James will fake any rash Lily wants, but he will not, under _any_ circumstances, regale his two best mates, Mary Macdonald, Professor Slughorn and a potential romantic rival with the story of the time he came in his pants.

"Oh, it was nothing," Lily sighs. She grabs hold of James's hand, a strategic move that delights and scares him in almost equal measure, and something brushes against his wrist and he looks down.

She's wearing the bracelet.

That must mean she's not - or is no longer - planning to murder and then dump him.

Perhaps she's not even angry. Perhaps in her sweet, sympathetic heart she took pity on him, and is merely indulging in some light teasing.

That means he's saved.

He can salvage this. He can salvage  _them._

"Thanks," he says, ruffling his hair with his free hand in the way he knows she likes, and then, in total, moronic, ridiculous opposition to the realisation he  _just_  had, "I love you."

That, he instantly reflects, is probably not the best way to salvage things. Lily is looking at him as if an extra head just spouted out of his neck.

"Right," says Remus, and places his hand on the crook of Sirius's arm. "I need a drink and also to get away from here."

"But—"

"Now," says Remus sternly, and moves off, taking Sirius with him, who in turn grabs Mary by the hand, and they float away like a strange paper chain.

"I think I need a drink too," says Lily. "Come on, James."

"The drinks table is that way," says Slughorn's friend, as Lily begins to pull James in the opposite direction to where Remus headed.

"Obviously I know that, Sherlock Holmes," she snaps. "Haven't you ever escaped an awkward situation before?"

She lets go of his hand altogether and stalks off, and James can only shrug an apology before he follows her, ducking beneath stupid, heart-shaped balloons and floating pink streamers, into a quieter, curtained area which offers them, perhaps, as much privacy as they'll be able to find at a crowded party.

She's sitting on a large, overturned crate that somebody shoved out of sight, arms tightly crossed, watching him expectantly.

"I, er—" he begins, unsure of where he should begin. "That guy's name was Sherlock Holmes?"

Lily's brow furrows, and her lips part slightly. "What?"

"Slughorn's mate—"

"Of course not, his name was Desmond. Is that really what's important here?"

"He was interested in you, you know."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, I forgot, I'm such a flake that I'll happily get off with any bloke who's _interested,"_ she snidely retorts. "Warn me the next time you feel like standing me up, and I'll take your cloak, so I can render myself invisible to all other men."

Lily, like Remus, has always had a gift for inducing shame with only a few words, but this is the first time in a long time that she's used that gift on him. "That isn't fair."

"No, you not trusting me isn't fair."

"I _do_ trust you!" he yelps. "I'd trust you with my life!"

"Fine, I'm sorry. What about that shit this morning?" she interrupts. One of her feet is knocking against the crate as if she's trying to crack it open. "Telling me you love me, except then you say you don't, then you do again, and you've ignored me all day?"

His impulse is to hug her - it always is, when she's upset - but she might not want him to touch her and he doesn't want to try without asking. She might punch him in the throat. She might cry. He has never, to his knowledge, made Lily cry, and if this is how it happens he will never forgive himself.

"I'm really sorry," he begins, weighing his words carefully. "I was awful this morning, and I thought you might need some space."

"From what?"

"From me, and my perpetual stupidity."

"Don't give me that nonsense, you're brilliantly clever."

"At Transfiguration and stuff, yeah, but when it comes to you I'm hopeless, like a first year trying to fly a broomstick."

"You've been flying since you were three-years-old."

"Okay, I'm a Quidditch genius and that was the worst example I could have thought of," he admits. "It's just, I knew as soon as I said it that you'd think it was too soon and then—"

"I offered you  _sex_  earlier, James, what part of me do you think would have thought you were being premature?"

"That's different," he argues, though he's not sure if he can stand by his own point. "Sex isn't love."

"It is for me," she says, and stands up, her arms dropping to rest at her sides. "So?"

"So?"

"Do you love me or not?"

He gaze drops to the ground. "Yes."

"Why was that so hard to admit?"

"Because," he says, and his hand jumps to his hair, this time out of habit. "I'm obviously going to lose you at some point, aren't I?"

Her hands fly to her hips. "No, I don't think that's obvious, actually, so you're going to have to explain yourself."

"It's just—" He wishes he had a crate of his own to sit on. Or hide under. "I had a really long time to get used to the idea that you'd never want me."

"I did want you."

"Yeah, I know you fancied me, and, okay, we're together now and it's brilliant, but sometimes it doesn't feel real, or, like you're too good for me—"

"I'm not."

"Well, I think you are, alright? And that's fine at school, and I'll try my best to deserve you if it kills me, but eventually, when we get out of here and you meet a much better bloke—"

Lily laughs, an incredulous, loud, forced laugh with no trace of amusement. "Are you for real?"

"Yeah, I am for real."

"Because, _no,_ I already - no, you know what? I've got this," she says, and pushes her hair behind her ears. "I'm going to tell you something and you're not going to like it, but I think I need to."

Dread. He feels dread. "Okay?"

"And after that, you're going to kiss me and tell me you love me to my _face,_ not to your shoes, or in front of a bunch of people, understood?"

"Lily—"

She silences him with a hand. "My turn."

"Sorry."

"Do you remember in fourth year, when I had that gigantic, embarrassing crush on Benjy Fenwick, and everyone knew about it?"

"What, Benjy-fucking-perfect-pants?" Fenwick had taken more than a couple of hexes as a fourteen-year-old James struggled to vent his feelings about that. "I'd blocked it out, but thanks for the reminder."

"You know, considering the fact that I've  _never_ given Benjy-fucking-perfect-pants a blowjob, but you get them on the regular, you might want to ease up on the jealousy?"

His mouth opens, then closes it again. "That was rude. M'sorry."

"Look, I didn't want to tell you this, but he actually asked me out a few months ago," she says, toeing the floor with her shoe. "And I said yes."

His mum would call it having his grave stepped on, but the shudder that starts in his spine and spreads, sickeningly, to every nerve ending in his body, has nothing to do with his final resting place and everything to do with Lily. "Ah."

"It was right after we came back to school," she continues. "We had that Hogsmeade visit scheduled, and Benjy asked me - very gentlemanly, mind - to go with him. To Puddifoot's. He had it all planned, and I was over my crush at that point but I thought that I owed it to my younger self to say yes, so I did, and I actually started to look forward to it. He's nice, you know? Smart. And doesn't he play Quidditch?"

"He's the Ravenclaw captain," says James hollowly. His mouth has gone all dry.

"Yeah, exactly. Good on paper, right? Even my mates were excited. I think we'd all fancied Benjy at some point or other—"

"I'm sorry, but what's the point of all this?" he interrupts.

"The point should be obvious, James."

"It's really not, Lily."

"Oh yeah?" she says, and crosses her arms again. "Who did I spend the first Hogsmeade trip of the year with?"

He has some argument, he thinks, some mean-spirited quip about how he's sorry he isn't Fenwick, but he knows he's better than that, and it dies before it can properly formulate in his mind. "Me."

"Yes, you. Why was that?"

"Because I asked you."

"And when did you ask me?"

He blinks a little at the recollection. "The night bef—"

"The night before!" she interrupts, and spreads her hands out wide, as if she's about to reveal the next part of her trick. "There I am, sitting in the common room, minding my own bloody business, looking forward to a date that I'd scheduled _weeks_ back, and you - you cheeky shit, Potter - you saunter over like you own the bloody world and ask me when you should pick me up for our date, as if I'd already agreed to it, like I couldn't even say no, like you and I were an accepted fact, or something. And what I should have done, what I was _supposed_ to do, was tell you no, thank you, because I've already got a date with Benjy-fucking-perfect-pants, and I didn't. I told you to pick me up at eleven!"

He remembers that night as if it were yesterday. Him, imbibed with the courage only firewhiskey would provide, propelled by an otherworldly power to take one more shot or he'd regret never trying, and Lily, and her instant, happy acceptance, and the way her hair shone in the light from the fireplace, and how he'd gone to bed wondering if he wasn't already asleep, and dreamed it all into reality.

He'd almost believed it, too, until the next day, when he came upon her in the entrance hall, pink-cheeked and waiting for _him_ , of all people. She'd slipped her hand into his, and smiled, and changed everything.

"So," Lily continues. "That left me with two dates for the same day, and every single rule of etiquette, or even basic manners, would have told me to cancel on you because Benjy asked first, and I didn’t. I went to Ravenclaw tower first thing the next morning and waited outside for an hour until someone came out who was willing to fetch him, and do you want to know what I told him?"

"What?"

"I told him that I couldn't go out with him, ever, because I'd made a date with _you_ first."

"But you hadn't."

"But I _had."_

"I don't understand—"

"Ages ago, James," she says, and takes a breath, and sighs. "When you kissed me the first time."

"After the OWLs?"

She nods.

"But you - really?"

"Things were complicated, I know, and I was still pretty mad at you and I wasn't – I didn't _love_ you, or anything – and honestly, I've realised since that I didn't even know you that well at the time, but it doesn't matter, because after that kiss, I was yours."

It's amazing, really, that after one hundred and fifty-one days, she can still make his heart race like it's the very first day and he's sitting across from her in the pub, watching her tug at the end of her braid and lick butterbeer foam from her lips, willing himself to make good on this chance because she's it. The one. The only one. He should be too young to know that, but he  _knows._

"But I came in my pants," he says, despite the hundred other things that might have been better, or more romantic.

Lily laughs, though, kind of helplessly, but it's a laugh still. "That was actually quite flattering, you know."

"You _did_ have your hand in my trousers."

"You had yours in my bra."

"You told me to put it there."

She laughs again, and comes to him, finally, and he wraps his arms around her at once.

"So, after all that?" she says, very quietly, now that they're close again, and her hands are on his chest. "We had one amazing kiss at a bad time, then we were friends for an entire year and _never_ mentioned it, and I thought you'd gotten past it and I – it was fine _,_ making a date with Benjy when I thought you weren't interested, but when I knew you still were?" She shrugs. "It was you or it was nothing."

He feels every fraction of his shattered nerves melt and meld together like wax. "I never knew that."

"I should have told you."

"I shouldn't have been so convinced that I was dooming us both."

"It's okay, you're an utterly ridiculous person," she says, with the tiniest of smiles. "But, you know, maybe get rid of this idea that I'm going to leave you for a better guy, yeah? Because _you're_ the better guy, and I really love you."

"Really?"

"So much it hurts. Cross my heart."

His own heart feels like a sunburst. "I love you, too."

She sighs contentedly, and tips her head back, hair tumbling down her back, tickling his arms. "Finally! I feel like I've been waiting forever!"

"It's barely been a day!"

"A very long day!" she cries. "I'm too attached now, you've ruined me. Potions is utterly boring without you."

"Then I'll never skive off class for as long as I live," he swears, grinning like an idiot in love. "Can I kiss you, please?"

"Yes," she says, but jerks her head away when he tries to swoop in. "Wait a second - no."

"Why not?"

"I'm still mad that you stood me up."

"Oh."

"Yes, _oh."_

Since he can't have her lips, he drops a kiss on her forehead, and relishes the happy noise he elicits. "Then what can I do to make it better?"

"Oh, I've got a very specific idea." She holds up her wrist, whereupon her bracelet glitters prettily, for him to inspect. "See this?"

"Yes, I do, Whoever got you that bracelet has exquisite taste."

"He does, as it happens." She moves her hand to wind around the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. "But I don't want to have to get a charm to commemorate our first proper argument as a couple."

"Only happy firsts allowed on that thing, Evans."

"I agree, so I think we need to replace it with something better."

"Does something better involve me taking you upstairs immediately?"

"And booting Peter out of the dorm?"

"I'll drag him out if I have to."

"And taking off all your clothes?"

He laughs, though his heart is racing, and she's pressing up against him in that way she knows he likes, and he'll have to scoop her up and take her away, right now, or they'll have another mess on their hands. "Just _my_ clothes? That hardly seems fair."

"You can tear mine off when you're done, if it helps."

He lifts her off her feet, his princess in a cherry red dress, and loves the way her eyes light up, the way she squeals in delight, and the feel of her arms around his neck, and thinks that he might marry her one day, this brilliant, clever woman, and carry her into the sunset, just like this. She's spectacular, his girlfriend. Absolutely breathtaking, but he's always known that. It's why he loves her.

"You sure you want me to tear your pretty new dress?" he asks, before he marches her through the crowd, ignoring all the inquiring looks, before they fall onto his bed and he gives her everything, and  _gets_ everything, and she adds another charm to her bracelet. 

"Lucky for me, I love one very talented wizard," she reminds him, and pulls his head down for a kiss. "I'm sure he can repair it."


End file.
